


Cider

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Trans Male Character, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Thranduil has a drink before bed.
Relationships: Meludir (Hobbit Movies)/Thranduil (Tolkien)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 90





	Cider

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DrowPrince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowPrince/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for DrowPrince’s “Thranduil/Trans!Meludir. I need Thranduil being obsessed with Meludir's sweet engorged clit. Perhaps oral” request on [my Dreamwidth](https://yeaka.dreamwidth.org/1190.html?thread=31142#cmt31142).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sometimes Elrond’s letters are so dreadfully dull that they actually _require_ red wine; Thranduil just couldn’t make it through them stone cold sober. He sips at the rim as he scans the empty paragraphs and wonders for the thousandth time we even has such a terribly uninteresting friend. It’s no wonder Estel is always visiting; he must be dying of boredom at home. 

The curtain to Thranduil’s bathing chambers draws aside, and the quiet rustle draws Thranduil’s eye. He lowers the letter but keeps his wine high, remaining right where he is: already tucked under the covers of his grand bed. His current lover plods across the oak-wood floor, his pretty honey-coloured hair draped slickly down his shoulders. His robe is all but sheer, light and thin: only a negligee to cover him after the bath. He looks dry enough, but his feet still leave tiny, slightly damp puddles behind him. When he reaches the edge bed, he halts there, obediently waiting for further instructions. 

He’s never been sent away yet. This one is too sweet, too thrilling, and will likely last Thranduil at least a hundred years. He smiles coyly at his king while his delicate hands keep the robe in place, though Thranduil orders, “Undress.”

Meludir doesn’t have to be told twice. He never does. He pulls the cream-coloured sash from his waist and shrugs his shoulders out of the pale fabric. It slithers right down his body to pool at his feet, leaving the rest of him bare for Thranduil’s hungry eyes. Thranduil enjoys the view for a long moment, though he already has it memorized. Then he purrs, “Come here.”

Meludir’s eyes glint excitedly, his smile wide enough to dimple his cute cheeks. He climbs up onto the bed and gasps as Thranduil’s arm—the one holding the letter—snakes around his trim waist, pulling him forward—Thranduil hikes the slender creature up into his lap. Meludir sets both hands on Thranduil’s broader shoulders and straddles Thranduil’s thighs, looking thoroughly ready for the taking. 

Thranduil isn’t quite sure if he wants to go there tonight. The wine has left him lax and languid, the letter tired, but he can’t fall asleep without _some_ semblance of fun. He takes his pleasure in watching Meludir’s pulse race, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, so full of anticipation. Thranduil’s gaze trails down his glistening throat to the flat planes of his chest, thrust forward, pink nipples pebbled in the cool night air. The pink lips between his legs are quivering, thighs clenching, so _eager_ , and that calls all of Thranduil’s attention. He detangles just enough to set the letter back on his nightstand—he’s officially moving on to better things.

He takes a final sip of his wine, then sets that aside too, because he’d like something richer. He returns both hands to Meludir’s trembling body and runs them down his entire length, leaning in to kiss his throat. 

Meludir lets out a filthy moan. He arches into the attention, squirming closer. Thranduil kisses lower, then hikes him higher and bends the rest of the way, making room to nuzzle into his stomach. Thranduil licks a wet trail down to Meludir’s engorged clit, clearly already excited to take him. A few more drawn-out licks, and Meludir’s groaning, squirming in Thranduil’s arms, hips jutting up as high as they can. That adoration isn’t lost on Thranduil. He always prefers pets that are _excited_ to please him. 

Meludir’s warm entrance pleases him greatly. It flutters against his chin, leaking, ridiculously wet—if Thranduil wanted, he could enter it easily, even though he’s plenty sizable. For the moment, he concentrates on the little nub above those creased petals. He lavishes it in his attention, lapping away until it’s risen enough to suck into his mouth. Then Meludir all but _screams_ , crying out and threading his thin fingers through Thranduil’s hair. Many of Thranduil’s toys don’t have that permission, but Meludir doesn’t try to pull it, so Thranduil allows the loss of control. He finds it mildly endearing, how easy it is to take Meludir apart. He knows he has an expert tongue, but it isn’t only him. Meludir is so wet, so keen. He pushes himself against Thranduil’s face like this is what he lives for. 

It probably is. Thranduil rewards that ardor. He strays down to thrust his tongue deep inside Meludir’s entrance, curling against the soft walls, but comes up again to concentrate on that one little spot that drives Meludir so wild—it might just be Thranduil’s favourite spot on Meludir’s entire gorgeous body. He assaults it with his zeal, until Meludir is so tense that Thranduil fears he’s going to break. 

Meludir comes with an explosive cry. More of his clear juices bubble out around Thranduil’s mouth, and he sucks them down, licking away what he can. Meludir collapses atop him, trembling almost violently. 

As soon as Thranduil pulls up and away, Meludir collapses in his lap. Meludir’s thighs shake, his head falling to Thranduil’s shoulder, a tad sticky with sweat. His hair’s plastered to his body. Thranduil idly pets back through it and reaches for the wine. 

He downs the rest of the glass, thirst well sated.


End file.
